大茶会 - Big Tea... Meeting

I recently had the pleasure of going to Hamarikyuu Park (浜離宮公園) in central Tokyo to attend the Tokyo Grand Tea Ceremony. For me, tea has always been a TV kind of beverage; something to be enjoyed while watching Countdown, Neighbours, or any other suitably naff daytime TV show. The idea that it could somehow be imbued with more etiquette than receiving a knighthood, and more culture than a factory full of macriobiotic yoghurt... well... I was intrigued.

The Setting

Firstly, the setting was quite beautiful. It was, nevertheless, a park in the middle of central Tokyo, and so no matter how stunning the scenery was, it was always dominated by the shadows of Tokyo's skyscrapers. I guess having been in Tokyo for a year now, my brain has come to automatically filter out such background concrete noise, so for me Hamarikyuu Park was quite a treat. It only takes a few minutes' walk into the park for the traffic noise to be gradually filtered out by the sound of wind in the trees, and the delicate waves of the many lakes. Over many of the lakes there were beautiful wooden bridges, one of which is made from the wood of trees over 300 years old.

While walking through the park, one can easily stumble across very quaint looking tea-houses. Due to various unfortunate circumstances (mainly earthquakes and air raids) none of them are actually as old as they look, as most were reconstructed in the latter half of the 20th century. But they are still impressive, and a hark back to a more traditional Japan; a refreshing change from the pachinko parlours and game centres that pack the city centre.

Throughout the day, walking gracefully round the lakes were geisha (芸者), shuffling around on their delicate shoes like some sort of exotic bird. They would often stop to have their pictures taken, but also seemed to spend a lot of time doing their typical job, that is to say, talking to very rich-looking Japanese businessmen and laughing a lot at pretty much anything they said. Along with the traditional park clashing with its urban surroundings, the sight of a cultural icon (the geisha) giggling ladylike at a besuited yuppie busy doing deals on his multifunctional cell phone was a very jarring image indeed.

The Ceremony

Sitting with my flatmate along with about 30 other foreigners, the intricacies of Japanese Tea ceremony were (rather briskly) explained to us by a somewhat feisty American girl in a Kimono. As was typical of the day, and of life in Tokyo, her loud voice, casual language and "Isn't this AWESOME!" attitude seemed to somewhat clash with the humble, quiet, refined sensei at her side. Still, she did very well at translating the honorific-laden language of the Sadou/tea ceremony (茶道) teacher.

We watched someone playing "the host" making the tea with a variety of beautiful, yet simple, instruments, including a bamboo-brush which she meticulously inspected, before delicately wetting it with warm water. She then used it to mix the green tea in bowls, creating something that more closely resembled green shaving foam than the tea most Westerners would have had in mind. Wetting the brush beforehand prevents any of the bamboo strands from snapping into the tea.

The tea was then handed to the "guests" as well as to those in the audience. The bowls, sensei explained, were handed to us with the most important/beautiful part of the bowl facing us. We were then advised to briefly appreciate the bowl, before rotating it clockwise a little, twice, using our right hand. This is to ensure that we didn't drink from the most important part of the bowl, which would have been a great offense.

By this point we had already eaten some sweets typical to the occasion. 茶道 always involves sweets, and these are always made or prepared with the guests in mind. As the majority of us were foreigners and Halloween was approaching, our sweets were fashioned into the shapes of little Halloween pumpkins. They were very oishii!

I'm sure, were one to really try to understand the intricacies of tea ceremony, it would take months, if not years to fully appreciate every little detail, every nuance. But this was just a brief introduction, so the importance of how to hold the bowls being explained, we drank and then the mini-lecture was over. Suitably relaxed and feeling rather cultured, my flatmate and I set off around the park to see what else was happening.

Principles of the Ceremony

In England this might just involve, "One spoon or two?" but in Japan, as was explained to us, there is a deep philosophical basis to tea ceremony.

Undoubtedly the most important concept behind tea ceremony (and Japanese society itself) is wa-kei-sei-jaku, meaning "Harmony, Reverential Respect, Purity, and Tranquility." Harmony is achieved through both hosts and guests learning and knowing as much about tea ceremony as possible, so that they can both play their parts well, producing a harmonious and mutual experience during the ceremony.

Kei/Respect is shown through the host's choice of instruments when making the tea.

Sei/Purity is achieved through the washing of the implements as well as in the separate consumption of the sweet and tea (i.e. a Japanese person will never ask you "One lump or two?"... there are NO lumps!)

Jaku/Tranquility comes from the lack of unnecessarily showy items or actions during the ceremony. It also comes from the appreciation of things being natural, or unaltered.

Finally, another governing principle in tea ceremony, and one which I particularly liked, was the concept of ichi-go ichi-e, meaning that these guests, with these instruments, in this environment will never meet again. Of course they will meet, but it can never be the same as any other time; each moment is fleeting and transient. And so there's a real sense of enjoyment in the ceremony, because the honus is on enjoying this one time as much as you can. Again, allowing this principle to be applied in your life, not just in the tea ceremony, is another Japanese trait that I like, though sadly it is hard to see in action in Tokyo.

綺麗な音楽 - Sweet Music!

Before leaving, we sat down to watch some music. All I can say is that I was blown away by its beauty, which I was in no way prepared for. Again, miles and miles of concrete were lifted from my mind as I listened to each intricate note being played. When the wind instruments began to play, I could almost feel a breeze on my face. Once again I was reminded of the peculiarity of the jarring elements that conspired to bring this event together. The entire day made me feel nostalgic for a time and place I have never seen, and this feeling was made all the more potent by an awareness of where I was and where I would soon be once I left this small, but beautiful park.

Feeling relaxed, happy, and refreshed, my friend and I left the park to face once more the neon throng of Tokyo.

鴻池朋子の展覧会に行ったの意見

　　　　　　　　　　　　　

最近私はメトロポリスマガジンのなかに鴻池朋子について記事を読みました。急に私は感動させれた。彼女の絵は日本ぽいじゃなくて、本当にぺーガンの絵みたいだと思った。いつのまにか私は彼女の展覧会にいた。

メトロポリスの中で鴻池の絵はすごく感動する事だけど、意外に実物は写真よりすごかった。でも彼女の展覧会は絵しかないという事じゃなくて、彫刻もあって、ビデオも作られた。五感は全部生きるようになった。

最初ところはお客が歩いて綺麗な襖絵通り抜けって、たくさんの鉛筆で書いた絵がある空間に入ります。この絵は世界の始めると世界の終わる時を見せっています。その絵の話は危険をはらんだみたいけど、かわいいな「ミミオ」と呼ぶカラクターで教えられた。そうしたら絵を見るところで怖い感じがあっても、安心のもある。

絵を見ているところで、頭の上で大きい彫刻がある。その彫刻はおかしい事はおかしいですけど、すごく面白かった。土地と人と動物で、朋子は全部一緒にしたんだ。

ただ一つの絵を見さえすれば、たくさんのテーマにすいて考えさせてくれる。たくさんの絵には人間とオオカミは一緒に混合して、新しい動物ぽいです。半分は人間で、半分オオカミだ。そうしたら絵を見る様は、環境と人間の戦うという事にすいて考えさせてくれる。

ある絵の中が森の中央を見せる。しかし、絵の背景の中には大きくて、前兆させる人間が出来た建物が見える。そうしたら、絵を見た人がその森は直ぐに無くなるのが分かるようになる。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　

実は私は鴻池の展覧会でぶらぶら歩いている時に私は彼女の絵がウィリアムブレークの絵と似ている事に気がついた。ある絵は宗教のテーマがある。「World of Wonder」という書いた物は本の中で世界が作られているのを見せている。その本の中には結局は人間の怖さのせいで宗教が作られた。絵の上で「From fear, comes belief」と書かれていた。でもその絵には人が宗教を作ったにもかかわらず、宗教の力がある雲が人より強そう。ウィリアムブレークも同じテーマについて詩を書いて、絵を書いた。人間の考えから神様と宗教など作られたけど、だんだん宗教は人間より強くなる。結局は人間は宗教の使い物になってしまう。でも当面の議題からそれる。

私のみるところで鴻池の一番大事なテーマは私達は子供として自分の生活を見て、楽しみにするのです。彼女の展覧会の中で歩いている事は本当にアデゥベンチャアーみたい。ある時が楽しくて、面白いけど、ある時も怖くて不思議です。時々私は少し「不思議の国のアリス」という感じがあった。実は鴻池さんは「生まれた時から、想像力はひとつも年をとれない。いままでも人間は子供だ。」と書いた。

彼女は自分の絵を見た人が外に出かけて、たくさんの経験の種類を取って欲しい。私達は人生が一つしかがないんですから、時間を勿体無いという事はだめだ。もし怖さのせいであなたの生活のつまらなさは静かな湖面似ていたら、自分で外に行って、湖面を波立つほうがいい。鴻池さんのおかげで私は自分にそういう事をするの約束が出来ますよ！

Back in Japan Plan

Time for a Goal


It's long since been a dream of mine to tour a country by motorcyle. I've always thought bikes were cool, I guess because none of the annoying people at school rode them - they drove around in little boxes on four wheels that they insisted were cool because they had a mini-disc player cellotaped to the dashboard, or some such peripheral nonsense. So if none of the jocks were zipping about with their hair down on a chopper, then bikes must be cool.


Very briefly, I sat pillion on a tiny motorcyle as someone my brother and I had befriended zipped about the Laos countryside visiting farms and waterfalls. It felt incredible going past people stuck in sweaty cars, or crammed on tour buses with a bunch of other foreigners; incredible, even though we were going at a speed only mildly quicker than a fast jog. I decided there and then that I'd like nothing more than to have a decent bike to call my own, and a month or so of free time to see a country firsthand - no glass windows or tour schedules forcing me onwards or separating me from something I'd like to feel a part of.


So I've begun researching motorbikes in Japan, and it appears you can get very decent ones for anything over 90,000 Yen (at the moment that's about £750). There're some driving schools that give instruction in English in Tokyo as well, also offering training materials, theory textbooks and tests for a reasonable price.


My goal is to get a test-trip (maybe about 10-15 days) prepared by March 2010 when I'll have my next big holiday (university holiday, so I won't be teaching). The weather will still be nice and cool around then, but not yet rainy season, so it should be a great time to go.


At the moment I'm considering a 250cc motorbike, mainly because Japan's speed limits render anything over 400ccs a little superfluous anyway - all that extra power but nowhere to use it. Plus as a first time biker, I think a 250cc bike ought to be fast enough and safe enough to try a mini-bike trip. I'm thinking of perhaps biking up to Hokkaido and back, so that would cover roughly half of Japan's North-Eastern side. If not that, then maybe a trip to Kyoto or Hiroshima, and spend a few days biking around any satellite towns in the area. Who knows?


So... that's 6 months to pass my test and get a reliable, but cheap bike. Next March, 250cc test drive to Hokkaido! Here we go!!


PS Just in case any of you are as un-savvy with bikes as me at this point and were wondering what a 250cc bike might look like, here's a picture... beautiful isn't it:

One year down...

...many more to go

So it's been a year now since I came to Tokyo, not that there's anything significant about 365 days, but returning to England for a few weeks does provide a sharp contrast which wakes me up to the realisation of where I actually am.

It has been an interesting year, arriving just as the economic crisis kicked in and gaining a pretty awful teaching job, I felt deprived of the Tokyo I had come to expect. Subsisting on budget brown rice and curry sauce from the hyaku-en shop (everything's 100 yen), Tokyo was a constantly beckoning source of intrigue just a little too distant to enjoy. But things gradually improved; I'm saving money now in a better job, I've done some enjoyable comedy gigs, my language has improved a lot, I've met good people, seen wonderful things and have finally begun to explore the neon-labyrinthe on my doorstep.

Even without money, Tokyo still has so much to see. Just walking the streets for hours on end, like Toru from Norwegian Wood, is an experience in itself; the cityscape is overpowering, and the variety is unimaginably rich. Just by spending a few hours in Harajuku, I managed to visit Meiji Jingu (shrine), Yoyogi Park, the bustling second-hand clothes shops and an ukiyo-e museum. In those few hours, the spectrum of people you see is astounding - all in one of the smallest 'cities' in Tokyo. It's such ridiculous variety as this that makes Tokyo a fantastic adventure, even on a budget.

After only one year, I already have so many good things to say about this city. It's fun, the food is amazing, the people are funky, interesting and often a little crazy. It's a modern city, probably more so than any other, but you can still find pockets of traditional culture if you look hard enough. There're beautiful parks, shrines, temples; the shopping is amazing, whether you're looking for fashionable labels, or cheap T-shirts of some niche rock band you used to know 20 years ago. In short, whatever you want, if you look for it in Tokyo, you're bound to find it.

Aside from run-ins with annoying foreigners, I haven't had a single bad experience here. Sure, the people look at me often with an overly-concerned glare, but that's something I'm gradually getting used to, even if, deep down, I don't particularly care for it. But Tokyo is a ridiculously easy city to live in. You can rely on the transport 100%, and it is relatively cheap (the trains are about a third the price of London's) and getting about is pretty easy, even if you don't speak the language.

Like everywhere, Tokyo/Japan does have its disappointing traits. For a country that used to be so closely reliant on a firm relationship with the environment, it's sometimes shocking to see it betray that relationship with such wanton abandon. The famous 'Bridges to nowhere' springs to mind; a teleologically bereft undertaking that's filled Japan's landscape with huge concrete landmarks, stretching over the horizon but leading to nothing. These pointless bridges dot the landscape, often unfinished, like ancient remains of a concrete dinosaur.

For a country that has such a distinct cultural identity (it doesn't take too much effort to mentally conjure an image of something quintessentially Japanese), it's also unnerving to see that culture being parodied to the point where the parody itself becomes the paradigm. There are countless 'samurai villages' dotted throughout Japan; cheesy theme parks that have become hotspots for Japanese families where they can pretend to live in the days of yore. Or onsens attached to a building complex pakced full of faux-traditional Japanese restaurants, staffed by young girls doing their arubaito (part-time job) by dressing up as geisha. But these 'Japanese experiences' are more popular with the natives than they are with tourists. So much so, that visiting these half-hearted recreations of Japan's former glory is fast becoming more a part of Japan's culture than its own original culture ever was.

Japan's u-turn on the environment, and the sacrifice of its own culture for the sake of sending it up, are just two examples of how perplexing a place Japan can be. The second you find something concrete that you believe is Japan, you'll immediately find something else that overturns that (mis)conception. No sooner have you been impressed by the extreme politeness with which new aquaintances meet, greet, and treat you, than you are shocked by the ruthless efficiency employed by men and women, young and old, in order to get a prime spot on the train, even if it means firmly shoving yours truly out of the way.

But I guess that's why I like Tokyo so much - you could never accuse it of being boring. Nevertheless, I look forward to getting back next month, saving some more money and then getting out of Tokyo to see what the rest of Japan is really like. Having lived in London and Bangkok, I'm well aware that the capital city is often very far from a real representation of a country's identity. But at the end of the day, when I get on the plane in two day's time, I know that I'll feel a little tingle of homesickness, both for England and Japan, so it must be an all right place to be.

When in Rome... become racist!

The Japanophile's Contradiction


In Japan, there's a saying that goes 「郷に入れば、郷に従え」（ごうにいれば、ごうにしたがえ・gou ni ireba, gou ni shitagae) which means much the same as "When in Rome..."; when you're in a place, you should follow the rules/customs of that place. Sometimes this basic tenet works, sometimes it doesn't. For example, I wouldn't expect a Japanese tourist in England to memorise useless football statistics, scream down their mobile phones on trains and vomit profusely in public places. Someone from a country that has a very strong sense of public harmony and etiquette shouldn't be expected to abandon it just because they're in a different country where those same customs don't happen to pertain. Being a little too quiet or reserved in a country where everyone speaks their mind is hardly a faux pas.

However, reverse the situation and it is an obvious problem. I only speak from experience, so I'm not singling any one nation out, but Americans and Brits in Japan do suffer from this exact predicament. We're loud, disruptive, and... let's face it... annoying, which doesn't help in a country where social harmony is a goal. I used to think the occasional concerned glance I got from Japanese people was something bordering on racism, but now when I see a gaijin (foreigner) on a train or in the street, I feel myself becoming more and more inclined to do the same. When Japanese people on trains gradually shuffle away from me, rather than feeling offended, I find myself thinking "Good on you. If I were on a train next to someone from a country whose people continually and reliably fuck everything up with a level of noise usually bequeathed to a war, I'd move away too." And so I too am now a 人種差別する人。 I also distinguish between people based entirely on their nationality. Like the Japanese ideas of 内　and 外 I'm gradually coming to think of foreigners with an "us or them" attitude.

A factor that plays a big part in this problem is that Japan is continually under seige at the hands of "Japanophiles", who come here in their hundreds of thousands; Japanophiles who fail to grasp one simple, yet crucial, truth: they don't actually like Japan. These poor, decibellic, deluded tourists come here thinking they love Japan, yet this could not be further from the truth. Confused? Not as much as I am. To understand further, one needs to understand wherein a country's cultural identity lies, and it is here that we can see a big distinction between Japan and the West ("us and them" again... sorry!)

To make a broad, and horrifically sweeping generalisation (although a true one in my opinion), America and Britain's cultural identity are based on "things"; stuff; something that can be produced. When one thinks of America, immediately McDonald's golden arches come into mind. Big cars, big asses, big bucks, "This Bud's for you", Starbucks, Wall Street, Marlborough, guns, FOX News, Hollywood movies, and big budget, movie-like dramas. America's culture is undeniably tied into these material things. I doubt, when conjuring up images of the US, one thinks of "The Way of the American". You don't think of how an American enters their home, or how they eat. You only think of what they eat. Sure, if you're new to knives and forks, you'd consider it, but you wouldn't tie that image in to what-it-means-to-be-a-Westerner.

Undoubtedly there is an American/British way of life with many subtle nuances, as does any country. We are loud, speak our minds when we want to, and express ourselves. But that's not so much a "way of life" so much as saying "any way is good", which is another way of saying we have no "way" as such. You might disagree and think that complete freedom is a way of life, but that's equivalent to saying that having no traffic laws is, in itself, a kind of traffic law... which it obviously isn't. Anyway, I digress.

My point is, in the West we've come to identify our countries' cultures through what they've produced. Somehow "The Office" (the original, better one!) is quintessentially British. James Bond is apparently quintessentially British, despite the fact I've never met any Brit like him. Tea is British, Starbucks is American. English gentleman, American Cowboy. These are all images, they're all things.

And so, to come back to my point, when us foreigners see Manga (Japanese comics) or Anime (animated movies), or when we hear J-Pop, or see the funky pictures of girls in Harajuku dressed like an Alice in Wonderland character after dropping acid, many of us think "Wow, Japan is cool. I like Japan." But the fact is, you don't. You've only scratched the materialistic and very superficial tip of what you'll soon discover is a massive ice berg made out of social etiquette, protocol, and harmony.

American and British culture is so heavily interwoven with its output of stuff, that we mistakenly identify Japan with its equivalents; sushi, Manga, Anime, crazy fashion, karaoke, and so on. But no sooner than we get off the plane do we realise that, for some reason, we're annoying the natives, getting weird looks when all we're doing is listening to our iPod on the train, and generally pissing everyone off. That's because, ladies and gentlemen, Japan's identity lies in its people, and the way they live. That is Japan. I'm sorry if you've come all the way from the UK, or The United States because you've somehow deluded yourself into thinking that Japan is your spiritual home just because you happen to like "Dragonball". If you love comics, fashion and J-Pop, but you don't like bending over backwards to keep everyone around you content, then I'm sorry, but you actually don't like Japan, because the latter is far more important. The latter is Japan.

In my short time here, I've met a lot of gaijin who profess their utter love for Japan. They're convinced that they somehow belong here, just because they wear strange clothes and like fucked up pop music. And yet they then get completely confused by something as simple as... being expected to follow a rule, and don't understand why the Japanese people deride them for it. "But I'm wearing a pink tie, a purple velvet hat, and I can quote every line from any Naruto comic. Why are they pissed off at me?" Why? Because you can't blend in, maintain harmony, keep those around you happy, avoid creating an unnecessary scene. You can't do any of these things because you don't like doing them. You... don't like Japan.

If you're serious about Japan, then you need to be serious about its people and the every day way of life, and how they do things. Coming to Japan, ecsatic that you're somehow "finding yourself" just because you like a few anime series and Mr. Children, is the same as moving your life to L.A. because you liked the drama series "24". Completely ridiculous isn't it?

If you really love Manga, Anime, mismatching clothes, and ramen, then just stay in your country, get a Japanese take away, dress up, whack on "Full Metal Alchemist" and then have a massive otaku circle jerk with you and your friends. Problem solved - you get to remain convinced that you somehow love Japanese culture without being hideously disappointed by the experience of coming here and realising how comepletely clueless you were, and Japan doesn't have to put up with you... being you.

蛇皮線を買った！ My Jabisen

Recently, thanks to my mildly improved financial situation, I decided to treat myself to a Jabisen (snake-skinned, stringed instrument), a traditional Japanese instrument that originates from Okinawa. It's very similar to, but not to be confused with a Shamisen (三味線) an instrument that came after the jabisen.

Having played the guitar for a couple of years, I wasn't completely at a loss as to how to get a nice sound out of it, but the lack of frets and the slightly odd tuning (A,D,A) make it quite difficult to play, not to mention that the strings are placed so closely together that when you place your finger on one string, it's quite difficult to avoid muting the adjacent ones.

Only by playing one note, you automatically generate a feeling of tradition, conjuring images of a long-gone Japan. It's a beautiful, tricky, and rewarding instrument. I look forward to getting better, and hopefully I'll be able to put up a little video of me playing it some time soon.

In the mean time, you'll just have to make do with a picture.

Memories of Spring in Japan

Some brief flashes of memory from Hanami, and a shrine atop Mt. Mitake, which I climbed this week.

Jazz

Hanami! 花見！

Ever since I arrived in Japan, all of my flatmates have been telling me, in ever-increasing excitement, about Hanami and how much I ought to be looking forward to it. If you're going to do one thing that's incredibly... Japanesey while you're over here, this is the event to go to.

Before the actual event, it's difficult to imagine how a picnic can be the cultural epicentre of a nation. Throw in the fact that this year I was confined to Tokyo, as far from nature as possible, and the idea became less and less appealing. I wouldn't have imagined that sharing a small concrete space with millions of families and salarymen while snaffling some supermarket sushi would be much of a relaxing experience. I was, of course, completely wrong. It was a thoroughly magical experience, so much so that I did three in the space of a week.

Firstly, the potential over-crowdedness which I was dreading turned out to be one of the best things about it. There must have been hundreds of thousands of people crammed into the park where I was plonked on my picnic sheet with friends and colleagues, yet there were no sounds of raucous shouting or drunken violence. There was just a wall of happy white noise floating through the cherry blossom trees. People, young and old, rich and poor, were just sitting, enjoying themselves, drinking and relaxing. Usually one only sees a crowd this size when sandwiched between two salarymen's armpits on the chikatetsu (underground), so it's wonderful to see an even greater crowd getting along with zero stress. It's this ability to co-exist without getting under everyone else's skin that Japanese people do extremely well. Even the Yakuza were there, sitting in their picnic spot enjoying themselves. Where else in the world would you find elements of organised crime sitting under pink flowers eating a sandwich next to a group of kids?

And then of course, there're the sakura blossoms themselves. Now, I've had some good picnics in my time (including some very bad ones, being forced to brave ice-cold rain storms with nothing but a sandwich to protect me from the elements, all in the name of steely British reserve), but nothing beats laying under a canopy of pink blossoms that stretch into the horizon. If you time it just right, you can picnic as the blossoms are beginning to fall, and so all afternoon you can eat with friends while petals are raining all around you. Visually, it truly is a magical experience.

I'm sure there are far more beautiful and serene places to have a Hanami, but sharing Yoyogi park with thousands of Tokyo-ites all getting along perfectly in the spirit of relaxation... I felt like I was a thousand miles away.

Having done a Hanami in a sprawling concrete mess, I think next time I'll head out into the country side and try to do one with just a small group of friends, but honestly, if you have the time to spare, it's worth seeing just how well Japanese people do things on a massive scale without everything descending into drunken brawls and shooting!

Did you trade green fields...

... for a cold steel rail?

Japan's rampant, runaway capitalism knows no bounds, and it certainly has little respect for Japan's traditional roots. Alex Kerr has already well-documented Japan's love affair with concrete, outlining the worrying dedication with which the government has seen fit to literally line the coast of this once paradisical island with miles of tarmac, made all the worse by the presence of tetrapods designed supposedly for the protection of Japan's coastal towns. But if one has to knock down, deforest and "modernise" the coastline beyond all recognition in order to save it, you've already done far worse than any tidal damage could hope to.

Japan is rife with these ludicrous policies which are the environmental equivalent of the famous Vietnam war doctrine "Bomb the village in order to save it." In a similar move, Japan is worryingly attached to the idea of digging up forests, drowning the coastline in murky grey slabs, and dropping tetrapods like carpet bombs in order to "save" the very vistas and coasts that are being ruined by such actions. Obviously most post-industrial countries, if not all, have sacrificed much of their indigenous habitats for the sake of "progress", but nowhere has it been done with such tenacity and wilful abandon as in Japan.

It is sad to think that a country that has its traditions so firmly intertwined with its natural habitat would so willingly destroy it for the sake of modernisation; modernisation at any cost. And so now it is sad to see that plans for a new resort that will decimate acres of precious coral reef as well as much of the mainland has been given the go ahead in Okinawa, perhaps one of the few areas of Japan that still remains relatively untouched (relative to the sprawling neon-concrete monster that is Tokyo). An area so unique that it may as well be a country in itself, it's all the more saddening to know that the concrete tide has reached so far.

Even more worrying is the tacit, and sometimes explicit, acceptance of this ugly trend of superficial modernisation sweeping the land of the rising sun. Many people believe the tetrapods being rained down on Japan's shores to be beautiful structures worthy of artistic merit. One only has to see a beach lined with these concrete monsters to realise that such a stance is utterly ludicrous. Nevertheless, one suspects that given the Japanese tendency to adhere to its cultural pillar of 建前（たてまえ・tatemae - not causing disruption or showing extreme emotion in public), if the government says it needs to concrete over every Sakura blossom in the name of the country's progress, most people would allow it to happen.

One can only hope that the current economic crisis might cause some in higher places to have second thoughts about the necessity of a concrete addiction. This is, however, unlikely. The relentless destruction of natural habitats is now tied into the economy to such an extent that it would be financially and politically detrimental for Japan to stop building over things. It has literally developed a dependency on wiping out much of its natural past.

Curse of the Eikaiwa

An unhealthy obsession

Having worked in one of the most reputable and successful eikaiwas 「英会話」in Japan, and having promptly decided to leave, I can't help but wonder what on earth all the fuss is about and why Japanese businessmen, students, and hobbyists alike, all seem so willing to part with vast amounts of cash for something so completely superficial.

Where to begin? Well, why do students go to an Eikaiwa like Nova, or Gaba, in the first place? One attraction to these kinds of schools is the focus on conversation. 英会話 after all means English + Meeting + Talk. Japanese learners of English sign up because in their education at school, English education is based solely on the memorisation and reproduction of grammar rules on paper; there's no focus on conversation. But does this really warrant going from one extreme to the other? Judging by the billions of Yen being poured into the coffers of English Conversation Schools everywhere, it does.

So what's the problem with the schools? Bluntly, that they completely fail to improve the students' linguistic abilities. This is due to the following reasons:

1. The teachers do not need any qualifications or teaching experience to teach. As such, very few of them if confronted with a marginally difficult grammar question will be able to answer or provide an adequate explanation.

2. Lacking proper training, the teachers are usually subjected to a superfluous induction program where they're shown how to 'search on the internet' and how to field difficult grammar questions (simply reply "It's not important"... seriously that's what I was told to say).

3. The quality of lessons is judged entirely by the students. This is simply ridiculous because if the students can't speak the language, how can they judge if they're being taught it correctly? The score teachers get is a reflection of how much the students enjoyed the lesson, but it is not a clear indication of whether or not they've learnt something. As such, lessons generally descend into overblown bouts of hyper-complementing the students and saying "Well done, you're great" even if they can't pronounce "a".

The lack of required training, suitable in house training, or continued effective evaluation means that students rarely make any progress, nor have any way of knowing if they are making any progress because they are their own judge. Senior Management plays no role in the students' progress and, seeing as the teachers rarely know how to track progress, neither do they.

Those are the problems, which begs the question, why are these infernal places still so popular? Well, so far as I can tell, it's basically down to massive marketing budgets and strong brand identity. TV commercials attack commuters on trains with a frequency that rivals McDonalds, TV commercials which have Japanese celebrities starring as the students. I would tentatively suggest that it's also tied into Japanese culture. It's not the social norm to rock the boat or complain by demanding anything different to what's already on offer, so if eikaiwas are pouring money into advertising and they become popular, once the trend is in place it's very unlikely to be broken.

Whereas in London there are constantly different styles of schools vying for top place, which in turn encourages students to experiment between them, in Japan everyone is happy to maintain harmony by going along with what's already popular. In London, the market has a voice and habits which thus leads to a variety of different schools, but Japan's student population is largely voiceless and held rapt by existent trends, unable to break out for fear of disrupting the norm. As such, it's quite possible to imagine eikaiwas being the dominant market force in English education for some time to come.

The end result of this is quite sad for the students. I've taught individuals who, despite having come to the school for 3 years, still had a low-intermediate level of English. I've been teaching alongside other teachers who think that "speach", "ourselfs" and "I am hope seeing you soon" are acceptable examples of the English language. I've had a superior not know that there were two different ways to spell "Practice/Practise" and overheard other teachers berate students for saying "I'm fine thank you." "Fine thank you? Is that good English? We only say 'fine' when we're angry about something." (Really?! Which bizarre country do you come from?)

My advice would be to study at home with a decent textbook (anything by Murphy) accompanied by a CD, and gradually build your level from children's books, through to teenage fiction, to newspapers and higher fiction, all the time listening to natural English from online news broadcasts and television shows.

My advice if you're a qualified teacher is: don't be lured by the easy offer of a job. Stay in your current job in your country and wait until you've secured something that demands more of its teachers. It'll save you a lot of disappointment, hassle, and stress.